


Threshold

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bondage, Butt Plugs, F/M, Impact Play, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9074584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: Maine gets tied up in a doorframe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Readers may recognize an element or two from The Drop, and also from Happily Ever After With Dogs verse (this is roughly set in the latter), but no prior reading is needed. It’s just smut, pals! Imperfect and utterly self-indulgent but this is basically Merry Kinkmas To Me so whatever.

Maine’s arms are only just starting to ache a little. Nothing he can’t take. Nothing he wants to stop. The figure 8 in his left hand is warm in his grip by now, fingers curled around the smooth steel shape, above where the rope cuff binds his wrist to the horizontal bar mounted in the doorframe.

We can just say it’s a pull-up bar, Carolina said with a wink when she brought the thing home to mount. Not that they need a story because they don’t have anybody to invite over to their tiny apartment. Not a lie anyway. Serves that purpose too, when Maine’s not bound to it spread like a starfish in the doorway to their sparsely-furnished bedroom. Wrists at each end, right at the doorjamb. Feet spread wide on the floor. Carolina two fingers knuckle-deep in him, stroking his prostate lightly. Just enough to keep him twitching, shivering. Knees going a little weak. Palms damp, a trickle of sweat down the back of his neck.

Keeps a good grip on that 8, though.

“Good boy.”

He goes a little weak at those words, sagging in the doorway for a couple seconds, the rope cuffs pulling on his wrists, and ah, he likes that too. Carolina’s fingers drag upward a little, prompting him to straighten up and making him groan at the added stretch.

She’s taking her time with him today. Had two fingers in him for a while—don’t know how long, he can’t see a clock, she turned her datapad upside down by the bed just to be sure. He’s loose around her fingers by now and all slick and easy, smooth gel over latex glove sliding luxuriantly in and out of him with slow, deliberate strokes. Could take another finger easy but she’s having fun with him, doing what she wants, and he wants more than anything else to do what she wants. To be good.

Maine grunts between breaths, shifts his heels slightly without taking his feet off the ground—not allowed—and leans a little to one side to roll his left shoulder. The hand in his ass pauses, and another hand touches the small of his back.

“Still okay?” she says.

He nods. Shifts from one side to the other, cracking both shoulders.

Her fingers pull out of him, and Maine whines softly, arching instinctively into her touch as it pulls away. She snickers a little, bites kisses under his shoulderblade. “Relax. Just gonna switch gears a little.”

His breath quickens and he nods eagerly, even though he doesn’t need to. Rubs his thumb over the curve of the 8, trying to keep himself steady while he waits. When he feels touch again, it’s firm silicone instead of gloved fingers. Slick but not too cold. She’s taken the time to warm the toy in her hands.

Always so good to him.

He pushes back against the solid tip just a little, just enough to say he wants, and Carolina gives, pushing the thick plug all the way into his ass in one smooth motion. He lets out a groan as it stretches him briefly, sighs at the popping feeling as it settles into place, the flared base wedged between his spread cheeks.

“Ah,” she murmurs, stepping back. “Now that looks good.”

He rumbles, noise half-gratified, half plaintive. Love the plug, it’s one of his favorites and he’s glad she decided to bring it out today. But the absence of her touch leaves him cold and shivering, his dick pulsing insistently between his spread and aching legs. He shifts again, rolling one shoulder and then the other.

He hears the rustle of latex, and then her bare hands come to rest on his shoulders. She rubs firmly, kneading his muscles, moving up under his biceps massaging some of the tension out. Maine moans softly, gratefully, some of the ache rubbed away, and then he feels her press up against his back, feels the warmth where their skin touches and the smooth synthetic fabric of her bra and panties, and he sighs just from that, from the sheer pleasure of contact. Hard to express how intense the longing is sometimes, to be touched, to be _held_ , even now with the void time further behind him—so long without any human contact, barely able to feel his own skin.

Wouldn’t tell her at all, maybe—she doesn’t have to do this, he doesn’t want her to _feel_ like she has to do this or do anything—but that’s the promise. To say what they need. With words, with hands. With whatever they have.

“Move your fingers for me,” she murmurs, caressing his arms. “Everything feeling okay?”

Wiggles the fingers on his open hand, makes a fist, releases. Flexes the hand holding the 8, but doesn’t let go.

“Good. Anything starts tingling or going numb, you stop me, right? Promise?”

Nod.

She kisses his shoulder. “Good. You want some marks?”

Nod nod.

She snickers. “Good boy.”

He feels her leg against his inner calf, toes nudging his foot. Sliding up the inside of his spread leg, knee rubbing his inner thigh. Pressing up into his crotch, against his balls. Hard. Oh god.

“Don’t come until I’m done with you and I’ll give you something special. Okay?”

He nods so fast. Breathless.

“Good boy.”

She moves away and Maine takes the minute to adjust his stance, steady himself, breathe. Hands are doing all right, arms a little tired but still okay, legs fine, feet flat on the old scuffed hardwood. The room he’s facing comes into focus: their bed, just a futon mattress on the floor (the frame broke the first time he sat on it) with some blankets and pillows piled messily on top because they never bother to make it up. A standing lamp in the corner, some stacked-up crates along the walls for shelves and an old steamer trunk bought at a junk shop for the clothes that don’t fit in the closet. They don’t have a lot anyway. Not real good at the whole civilian life thing. But they make do.

Carolina’s at his back again and his focus snaps instantly back to his body, her touch, and the space between them. Feel the touch of something on his left ass cheek, not her hand, flat and stiff. He makes a pleased noise in his throat, recognizing. The stiff leather slides over his skin, rests against the other cheek.

“Ready?”

Nod.

She delivers a light slap to his right cheek and then the left in turn. The strokes land gentle, no real sting yet, but all the same he feels the blood pulse to the surface of his skin and down the full length of his dick, his whole body awake with anticipation.

The next strikes come harder, a bright sting where the slapper lands. It makes a sharp, satisfying sound, but it doesn’t really hurt, not at first. Pulls more heat into his skin, makes his body feel alive, awake.

She gives him three good hits on one side, building up the burn with each hit. Then the other side. Maine’s let his eyes close, soaking in the sensation, the sharpness and awakeness of fresh pain. His muscles are starting to react, now, clenching with each smack and the plug in his ass feels bigger and harder than it did before as he tightens around it to the rhythm of her strikes. One, two, three, four, five hits in a row now, and she’s pressing in on the follow-through instead of lifting off, deepening the impact. A heavier feeling now, deeper. Bruisey. The kind that makes him want to sink, get lost in it, makes him long for more. There are things she won’t do standing up, though. Here he has to stay up, not go too far down.

But oh, it feels good. Deep burn, hazy pleasure humming under his skin, moaning out sounds he only half-hears. But he still counts the hits. Helps keep him awake.

She stops after a set of nine on each side, puts her hand on his back. Presses a kiss to the center of his spine. “How you doing?”

Doing good. Doing real good. Would like more. Starting to feel a tingle in his fingers though. Doesn’t want this to stop. But he promised.

He doesn’t drop the 8, but taps it against the doorframe, two sharp taps.

“Hands?”

He nods.

“Okay. Gonna take you down. We’ll finish on the floor.” She bites kisses along his shoulder as she quickly loosens the tie on the left and then the right, taking him gently by both wrists and lowering them slowly. Rubs his wrists and hands, rubs up and down the length of his arms. He flexes his fingers, a warm rush of blood in his hands, but the tingle safely gone. She’s pressed up warm and close against his back again. The pressure against his ass feels good.

“Good?”

He nods.

“Good boy.” A hand in the small of his back pushes him forward. “On your knees. On the bed.”

 

He drops to his knees quickly, crawls the few feet to the mattress. She’s still behind him. Haven’t seen her face since they began, and just thinking about that pulls up a strange ache in his chest. Like missing her, even though she’s right here, never left.

Maine waits on hands and knees, and in a moment she’s close again, rubbing his back.

“Been so good,” she says softly, and Maine shivers, staring into the off-black of the mattress cover. (Should probably get sheets at some point but they never think of it.) The blanket rumpled under his knees is burgundy and soft, the one bunched off to the side light blue. It’s about now that he remembers his dick hasn’t been touched once since they started, and the arousal that’s been an up-and-down background heat is suddenly at the forefront of his awareness again, now that he’s less focused on standing up and keeping knees loose and arms awake.

His elbows shake slightly, waiting. She hums thoughtfully. “Hmm. Nah. Over on your back.”

Maine realizes a long breath as he rolls onto his back, going loose-limbed and slack almost as soon as he’s flat. Feel the burn in his buttocks under his weight. Carolina’s sitting close, touching his hip. Still in her underwear, black sports bra and plain black panties, and even that seems somehow surreal, that she hasn’t been naked this whole time like him.

He forgets everything else for a minute, just looking at her, hair tied back loosely, her body all lean compact muscle curled up close to him, taut thighs and thick biceps and it’s always felt right looking up at her. Seeing her above him, small as she is—makes him feel smaller. And safe. Her face softens with a smile as she meets his eyes and she cups his jaw for a moment, before tugging off her bra. Small breasts slip free, nipples flushed and perking in the open air.

“Been really good,” she says, a knowing smile creeping across her face, “so you get to watch. But no touching. Yourself either. Promised you something special, remember.”

Nods hard. Curls fingers into the blanket in anticipation.

She slips a hand into her panties.

Carolina doesn’t make a lot of noise, most of the time. And Maine’s watched her enough times to know how fast she can get herself off when she wants to, faster than even he can with fingers or tongue. She isn’t rushing, exactly, but the way her hand moves in quick circles under her panties is purposeful. She hooks her thumb in the waistband and drags them down a little, exposing her hipbone and a little of her pubic hair. Just enough to make him swallow, curl his hands into fists in the blanket.

She catches his eyes, smirks and rises up on her knees. Shoves the panties down her thighs and plunges two fingers inside herself.

Her breath quickens and her eyes half-close as she finger-fucks herself almost roughly, the wet sounds of it sending a fresh pulse of heat to his cock. She’s got three fingers in her cunt before he can blink, pressing deep, biting her lip, and bearing down hard on her hand like she’s going to finish—but she lets out a wet gasp and pulls out instead.

“Close your eyes,” she orders. Almost wouldn’t know she was breathless a second ago, seconds away from coming. Maine shuts his eyes and pulls in a deep breath, listening for any hint of what’s to come.

He hears slight movement. Feels her shift on the mattress. The click of a cap. Another faint wet sound, a soft gasp.

“Okay,” she says, and just like that her command voice is back, only a slight edge to her breathing. “You can look now.”

Maine opens his eyes, and draws in a startled, almost reverent breath. A sleek black cock between her thighs. No harness. A double, the other end curving up inside her.

Also, her hair’s down, falling bright and loose over her shoulders and somehow that’s the best part.

She smirks. “Look good?”

Nods eagerly.

Carolina smiles, satisfied, and crawls between his thighs, holding the toy in place with one hand. Brushes her knuckles down his inner thigh, making him shiver. She makes a thoughtful noise and grabs a pillow, motioning for him to lift his hips so she can tuck it under. His weight compresses it almost flat, and after a moment’s thought she adds the second pillow too, shifting them until he’s comfortable. Maine draws his knees up, spreading open as much as he can and Carolina grips the plug by the base, rocks it gently in a circular motion and eases it out with a wet pop. He groans slightly at the empty feeling it leaves, stares up at her with eyes wide with want.

She rests a hand on his chest for a moment, just looking at him searchingly, nakedly. The lines of her face softening, longing in her eyes, and he feels that ache in his chest again, that need, but there’s a warmth now filling it, filling him at his core. He rests a hand over hers and his heart beats heavy under her palm.

Then her hand slips away and reaches for the lube.

 

It’s easy going in. He’s already good and loose and the fullness feels so, so good after the wait, even better than the plug, longer and thicker and a nice smooth friction. Takes a little longer for Carolina to get comfortable, find the right position and get into a rhythm. At this point he could care less whether she gets the angle perfect, utterly relaxed and content to lie back and enjoy this, but it’s Carolina and she’s still a perfectionist at heart.

He lets his eyes close. Part of him wants to keep them open, keep watching her—she’s stunning, the way her muscles ripple when she moves and her hair falling in her eyes—but the freedom to finally just sink is hard to resist.

Feels her pause and take his hand, squeeze twice, and he returns two firm squeezes. He’s good. Still here. Just want to relax.

Satisfied, she pushes deep until she bottoms out in him and he groans deep in his chest. She grips his hip tight with her left hand, the right hand steadying the L-shaped base of the toy as she fucks him harder.

He feels her slow down after a bit, more grinding down on the toy now and god, he loves how he can feel her every movement transferred along its length, feel the way she rocks back on the toy to hit her g-spot, and then forward to push the smooth dip of it against her clit.

Opens his eyes to watch her come, a shudder traveling up through her body, abdominal muscles all tensing and then releasing, along with a heavy breath.

Then she leans over him, and pushes in deep, all the way until she bottoms out again and he’s almost gasping with it, the depth and the friction, but just as much the closeness and the heat of her skin. Almost doesn’t realize her end has slipped out of her until he feels her hand under his balls, gripping the base of the toy. Working it in slower, more deliberate motions now. Changing the angle until the tip rubs against his prostate and he shudders under her, the pressure deliberate and targeted and unrelenting now and Maine dissolves into helpless groans, so _close_ but he can’t quite get over the edge until she lets her full weight rest on him and the pressure against his cock is enough to finally let him come, flooding hot between their bodies.

She doesn’t move right away, and he goes slack and boneless under her weight, quietly soaking up the pressure and the contact and though he doesn’t have a way to tell her how grateful he is for it right now, he figures she knows. Hope so.

 

Maine drifts back to awareness to Carolina gently toweling off his stomach. She puts a hand under his shoulder, nudges him to sit upright. He makes a grumbling noise but obeys, taking a minute to get a grip on the bottle of water she’s pushing into his hand. He drinks it down in long swallows. Cool but not too cold, feels good on his throat. Still a good burn in his ass, feel it harder sitting up.

Carolina rubs his back while he drinks and kind of rolls him over onto his belly when he lies down again. Pillows are back where they should be. Must’ve done that while he was out of it. She massages his back with both hands now, gently and then firmer and deeper, murmuring soft words of praise. The words all kind of blur together in his head, but the approval still hits home, a soft feeling of _good good good_ washing over him, blending with the warmth of her touch. When her hands move down to his buttocks she’s gentle, palms rubbing some of the lingering sting away. He’ll have some marks there. Like that. Like feeling it for a few days, remembering.

When she crawls down into bed beside him he shifts onto his side, facing her.

She slips an arm under his neck and folds both arms around him so they’re pressed tight together, chest to chest, warm skin touching everywhere they can. Still a nice lingering heat under his skin, especially on his backside, and as she tugs the remaining blankets up over them he sighs happily, drinking in the comfort. Always loved this but these days more than ever. Still so good to be completely in his body, to feel every touch so much, pleasure or pain.

And when it’s her touch…

She kisses him. Soft. Warm lips against his. His kiss back is lazy, the brush of their tongues messy but nice. Feels so good and sleepy, dreamy, yet too real to be a dream.

Maine is close to drifting off, but cracks one eye for a brief moment. Her eyes are still half-open, soft in the low light, her whole face soft, watching him with contentment and affection.

Lets out a breath of quiet relief, closes his eyes. All of it real. Both of them. Real and alive and he’s safe in her arms, drifting off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about the toy Carolina is using, it's [this one](http://www.babeland.com/share/d/1424).


End file.
